Page 100 of Don't You Forget About Me
‘“Have I got this right,” my stepdad said, reaching sixty-seven-year-old system overload. “People log on to their computers online, to read the remarks of a stuffed toy, which is in fact,youpretending to be a stuffed toy?”
‘“In one,” said Dave.
‘“Good grief,” said my stepdad. “I’m probably not the right customer for that sort of polytechnic talk.”
‘Dave was drinking wine, at a clip, and he was on flu meds, which his doctor had warned him not to mix with alcohol. At some point during glass four, he went full-on stoner philosopher.
‘My mum asked if he wanted marriage and kids. (Thanks, Mum.) He said “It’s a case of whether you choose the red pill or the blue pill isn’t it?”
‘“Viagra?!” said my stepdad Geoffrey.’
A laugh, a proper laugh.
‘Dave went on to explain the plot of popular sci-fi action-adventureThe Matrixto them, in relation to his hard-left politics. My mum was surprised to discover she was in a simulation created by capitalism, especially as she’d just had the kitchen done.
‘“I like Fulwood!” my mum said.
‘“It’s a constructed reality,” he said. Then burped. “You should read Noam Chomsky’sManufacturingConsent.”
‘“Got to grow up some time, sonny Jim,” said my stepdad.
‘“Have you?” my boyfriend slurred. “Have you? Numbers, man. Who cares. You’re seventy,” he said to my stepdad, who said, “I’m sixty-seven, thank you very much!” My boyfriend looked at my mum and thankfully decided not to risk it. “She’s thirty …” he pointed at me. “And this house is what? A hundred years old? Right! Numbers. All meaningless.”
‘“Not if you want children, they’re not,” my mum said, and at that point I decided I was trapped in a simulation designed by Satan. She continued, “Georgina’s fertility is going to fall off a cliff at thirty-five, I sent her a clipping from theTelegraphabout it only the other day.”
‘“Thanks for that, Mum,” I said. “I don’t really see what Kate Middleton has to do with me, to be honest.”
‘“Ugh, the Royals?!” Dave’s face twisted into a mask of contempt. “In my revolution, Kate Middleton would be in a dungeon.”
‘“With three beautifully dressed children as a comfort to her though,” my mum said to me, as if it was a scold, at which point I collapsed in hysterics at DaveWorld meeting MumWorld and trying in vain to make sense of each other.
‘“In those velvet and bibs! Those posh kids are dressed like ghosts that died in a fire!” Dave bellowed.
‘Ten minutes later, my boyfriend nodded off during my stepdad discussing his allotment, and did a sleep-fart.’
I look up.
‘My boyfriend Dave and I are no longer together.’
I fold my notes and feel it’s gone well. Everyone is clapping and whooping and someone’s even whistling. I’m awash with pleasure and relief.
Until I see that the person whistling is Robin McNee.
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Before I have time to react, I’m being herded from the stage by an excitable Gareth.
‘I have a treat for you tonight, guys. There’s a special guest here who has asked to be added to our line-up, as a one-off guest appearance. We’re honoured to have him. Put your hands together for Robin McNee!’
Shaking, I trace my way back to my seat and share ‘WTF’ looks with my table mates. How the hell did he get up here without one of the McCarthy brothers spotting him and chucking him straight back out?
Robin is raking his hand through his hair, doing his ‘aw shucks’ sort of moves: little dip of the head, bashful expression. He detaches the microphone from the stand.
‘Good evening, drinkers of The Wicker and fans of sharing shame. And congratulations, ‘Georgina …?’ he feigns uncertainly picking me out, ‘I loved that.’
No really, how thehellhas he got in here? I feel rage well up and even as it does, I know I’m being unfair. Barring someone, unless you have a bouncer, isn’t foolproof, and it looks like Robin had help, a man on the inside. What the fuck is he going to do?! After the havoc and misery he wreaked last time, I am vibrating with the potential malignancy.
I catch a movement by the door and, unnoticed by everyone but me, see Lucas, his brow knitted, taking in Robin and scanning for my face. I don’t know how long he’s been there.
